Inspector Jörgensen And The Unscrupulous: Crime Thriller

By Alfred Bekker

by Alfred Bekker


Inspector Jörgensen and the unscrupulous:

A brutal gang controls the drug business in St. Pauli - and wages a merciless war against the competition. A series of murders appears to be linked to this drug war - but Detective Chief Inspector Uwe Jörgensen and his colleague Roy Müller have their doubts ...





Alfred Bekker is a well-known author of fantasy novels, crime thrillers and books for young people. In addition to his major book successes, he has written numerous novels for suspense series such as Ren Dhark, Jerry Cotton, Cotton Reloaded, Kommissar X, John Sinclair and Jessica Bannister. He has also published under the names Neal Chadwick, Henry Rohmer, Conny Walden and Janet Farell.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alfredbooks
• Release date: May 3, 2024
• ISBN: 9783745237801

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Alfred Bekker

Inspector Jörgensen And The Unscrupulous: Crime Thriller

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Inspector Jörgensen And The Unscrupulous: Crime Thriller

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Inspector Jörgensen And The Unscrupulous: Crime Thriller

by Alfred Bekker

Inspector Jörgensen and the unscrupulous:

A brutal gang controls the drug business in St. Pauli - and wages a merciless war against the competition. A series of murders appears to be linked to this drug war - but Detective Chief Inspector Uwe Jörgensen and his colleague Roy Müller have their doubts ...

Alfred Bekker is a well-known author of fantasy novels, crime thrillers and books for young people. In addition to his major book successes, he has written numerous novels for suspense series such as Ren Dhark, Jerry Cotton, Cotton Reloaded, Kommissar X, John Sinclair and Jessica Bannister. He has also published under the names Neal Chadwick, Henry Rohmer, Conny Walden and Janet Farell.

Copyright

A CassiopeiaPress book: CASSIOPEIAPRESS, UKSAK E-Books, Alfred Bekker, Alfred Bekker presents, Casssiopeia-XXX-press, Alfredbooks, Uksak Special Edition, Cassiopeiapress Extra Edition, Cassiopeiapress/AlfredBooks and BEKKERpublishing are imprints of

Alfred Bekker

© Roman by Author

© this issue 2023 by AlfredBekker/CassiopeiaPress, Lengerich/Westphalia

The fictional characters have nothing to do with actual living persons. Similarities in names are coincidental and not intentional.

All rights reserved.

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1

Hamburg 1997...

Christoph Franz saw the light at the end of the Elbe tunnel that connects Hamburg-Othmarschen with Hamburg-Waltershof. The tunnel runs deep under the Elbe and emerged to the surface again in Hamburg-Waltershof.

Franz squinted his eyes as he drove out of the tunnel. The glaring daylight blinded him a little.

Little did he know that at the same moment his face would become visible in the scope of a precision weapon.

The crosshairs right on his forehead ...

Franz took a deep breath, thinking about the appointment he had ahead of him at a law firm in Hamburg-Mitte.

He knew the route like the back of his hand.

Only a good two hundred and fifty meters to go, then the road led through the open.

Franz raised his eyes.

Above the tunnel exit, we continued on the A7.

Against the bright sunlight of this cold, clear day, he couldn't see the guy with the gun standing up there with him in his sights.

Only seconds had passed since his BMW had passed the exit of the Elbe Tunnel.

A bullet shattered the windshield and penetrated his forehead. A small, round hole formed slightly above his eyes. A red dot that quickly grew larger.

The force of the projectile caused Franz's skull to hit the headrest, which was not properly adjusted, with a jolt. His neck was already strangely twisted when the second shot pierced his jaw and lodged in the seat cushion of the back seat after shredding the headrest.

The BMW broke out of its lane.

The dead man's hands tightened around the steering wheel. And his foot was still pressing on the accelerator.

The car scraped against a delivery van, which tried to brake and skidded. A sports coupe chased it from the side into the load compartment.

The sheet buckled like cardboard.

Tires squealed.

With a bang, other vehicles followed. An articulated lorry just managed to swerve out of the way, forcing a limousine off the road and causing both to get stuck in the crash barriers a moment later.

Meanwhile, the BMW continued to chase at undiminished speed.

Like a projectile.

A corpse at the wheel.

Of course, he was unable to take the bend in the highway at the Kohlbrand.

The car crashed head-on into a concrete barrier.

The engine section of the BMW folded up in seconds as if it were made of newspaper. The car stopped with a tremendous bang.

A figure stood above the road and calmly watched the action. The murderer grimaced.

He stowed the precision rifle in a sheath. Then he reached into the inside pocket of his worn leather jacket and pulled out a spray can of black paint.

With quick, confident movements, he skillfully sprayed lettering onto the asphalt.

BLOOD ANGELS was written there the next moment in large, jagged letters.

And a little smaller below: WE ARE EVERYWHERE!

An Opel stopped at the side of the road.

The murderer took a few quick steps towards the car and got in. The Opel drove off with screeching tires and disappeared into the traffic jam moments later.

Everything okay? asked the driver.

The murderer took a deep breath.

I think so, he said.

We'll take the next exit and then drive back to Othmarschen.

Why?

Because I got the car from there. I'm putting it back exactly where it was.

The owner will be delighted.

If someone just watched the car and the police show up at the guy's house, probably not anymore. A crazy giggle followed. The driver seemed very amused by this idea.

The murderer, on the other hand, just shrugged his broad shoulders.

2

When Roy and I arrived at the exit of the Elbe tunnel, all hell was breaking loose. My friend and colleague Roy Müller was at the wheel of a Mercedes that we had been given by the Hamburg Criminal Investigation Department. It was a big limousine.

Roy parked them at the side of the road. The exit from the Elbe tunnel had been closed in both directions. And it would certainly stay that way for a few more hours.

We got out of the car.

I turned up the collar of my coat.

A damn cold wind blew in from the Elbe and made your nose freeze to a crisp within a few moments.

Numerous emergency vehicles from the police, highway police and fire department crowded onto the asphalt. There were also a number of medical rescue teams and officers from the homicide squad, the central identification service of the various police departments in the city of Hamburg, which was also frequently called upon by our office.

That looks terrible, Roy muttered with a furrowed brow.

I just nodded.

We showed our ID cards to a uniformed police officer.

The officer nodded curtly.

Bad thing ... he said.

Another attack by this gang called the BLOOD ANGELS? I asked. We hadn't been told much. The news had reached us just after we had entered our office at the police station. We had left immediately.

It's about time this gang of terrorists was finally cleaned up, if you ask me, said the officer. Look at what they've done here! He pointed in the direction of the resulting chaos and then in the opposite direction. The guy was standing there and pulled the trigger. Randomly - some car. Just to prove his courage or because he didn't like BMWs ... The officer took a deep breath.

As a patrolman, he was certainly used to a lot. It was not a job for the faint-hearted.

But this visibly affected him.

I can understand if someone wants to be rich and robs a cash-in-transit company because they think it's their big chance. I can also understand if someone kills someone in a fight because they just blow a fuse. My God, but this... He shook his head. It's so completely pointless. I could only agree with him. I nodded. He said, I hope the guy gets what he deserves.

I hope so too, I replied.

I looked at a van that looked like a crushed metal coffin. Some men were busy cutting someone out of the pile of scrap metal. There was a pool of blood on the cold asphalt. It had already dried.

A tragedy, I thought. I could understand the policeman's anger only too well.

Five dead, he murmured to me. And it's not yet clear whether all of the injured will survive ...

3

Inspector Lothar Jacobs, head of the Hamburg-Mitte homicide squad, approached us. His walkie-talkie was sticking out of his coat pocket. His hair was unkempt and he certainly hadn't had breakfast. His face looked gray.

Hello, Uwe, he greeted me curtly. I knew him from various missions. He greeted Roy with a nod of his head. The forensic experts are going to be busy for a while yet, but it looks like one of those cursed tests of courage that the BLOOD ANGELS use to accept their new members. He pointed to the pile of metal that had once been a BMW before this assassination. Some members of the forensics team then got to work on the car.

Do they know who the victim was yet? I asked.

No. We have to painstakingly cut the body out of the BMW first. I don't think that would help you either. The victim was chosen completely at random. The guy was standing back there at the top of the road and picked out one of the vehicles that had just come out of the Elbe tunnel.

I nodded.

More details would probably be found in the reports. Both in the coroner's report and in what the ballistics experts would find out. We followed Inspector Jacobs to the BMW.

A terrible sight!

I made a note of the number. May the devil know what I would need it for.

Jacobs took a deep breath and then said sombrely: The last time I was here was two weeks ago. In almost exactly the same place and for the same reason ...

I know, I said.

It's hard to believe! These brothers have really become brazen. Twice in a row in the same place! He shrugged his broad shoulders. Maybe it was an act of special courage, he said with a caustic undertone.

We're doing everything we can to catch the perpetrators, explained Roy. But after all, we can't just go to St. Pauli and arrest all the people wearing strange leather jackets ...

That shouldn't be an accusation, replied Inspector Jacobs. But when you see something like that, you can get angry. He pointed to the spot where the shooter had been standing. I assume you still want to see where the shot was fired from ...

Yes, I nodded.

The perpetrator can't have been a bad shot, Jacobs then stated.

What makes you think that? said Roy. A BMW like that is no small target!

No, but mobile. The shooter only had a few seconds to hit the car before it would have whizzed past. Where he hit the BMW is almost irrelevant. Even if it's just a tire, a catastrophe is inevitable. More or less, anyway.

Are we taking our car? asked Roy.

Inspector Jacobs nodded.

My colleague is currently on the road with mine.

We got into the Mercedes. This time I was at the wheel. We passed an underpass and then had to drive around a bend to finally reach the A7, which ran in the opposite direction. It was hard to miss the spot where the killer had been lying in wait for his victim, because there were lots of police vehicles there too.

One lane was closed.

We stopped at the side of the road and got out.

A little later, the three of us were standing in the exact spot from which the perpetrator had had his wonderful view. Right at the exit of the Elbe tunnel.

Jacobs said: It looks like the killer hit the BMW driver. That means he must have hit him fairly soon after the car came out of the tunnel. Otherwise the angle would have been too unfavorable ...

I looked at the writing that had been sprayed on the floor.

The BLOOD ANGELS lettering is well done, said Roy.

I would like to have prints of the photos that the forensics team hopefully took as soon as possible.

Smearing, said Lothar Jacobs lightly.

Wait and see, I replied. Every little thing could mean the decisive clue in the end.

One of the policemen now approached us and turned to Jacobs.

Mr. Jacobs, I have the chief of police on the line.

Jacobs nodded.

I'm coming, he said and followed the officer to his patrol car.

Roy looked after him for a moment.

Seems like people are getting nervous on the higher floors too, Uwe.

Are you surprised?

Not really, Roy replied. After all, these BLOOD ANGELS are spreading through St. Pauli like an epidemic, block by block, street by street. It's reminiscent of guerrilla warfare.

We exchanged a quick glance.

Yes, it was a war waged by the BLOOD ANGELS.

A war against the police, the citizens, hostile gangs and every crack dealer between Altona and Harburg who didn't have the cheek to give them at least half of their profits.

St. Pauli, Altona and parts of Hamburg-Harburg were the places in Hamburg where drugs ruled openly. Gangs that ruled a few streets were nothing unusual. And the fact that such gangs stretched out their fingers for whatever promised them profit was unfortunately also the order of the day.

You could still earn more as a